


in rivulets, in waves

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Character Death (Minor), Dubious Consent, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, sex during menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the war ends and people rejoice. luna finds bellatrix on the battlefield, wounded, and seeks to protect her. they try to heal as the world around them descends into madness. this is not a happy story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in rivulets, in waves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sporadic__](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sporadic__).



> Written for the now-extinct Harry Potter femslash fest fem_exchange.
> 
> A and C are brilliant betas, and any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone! also, reba, i hope this is what you wanted!

  
  


**A pulse.**

  
.o1

The field is dark. There is no lightning; that would be _too_ fitting. The rain that was coming down earlier, back when there were more standing than not, has slowed to a drizzle.

It wouldn't matter if it were torrential, if it were soft. The field is already muddy: first wet with rain, and then blood, and then more rain and some unmentionable substances, to boot. The bodies sink into the mud, hair and clothes (or what's left of them) melding with the torn remnants of grass and dandelions as the rain renders specific features unrecognisable.

You-Know-Who isn't on the field.

  
.o2

Harry isn't on the field, either. His body vanished with You-Know-Who's, presumably decimated beyond existence.

All over the field, there are people standing, but there are more lying prone, impervious to the hope slowly permeating the survivors, the relief of the few. (The few, they remain slightly dazed. As they stand, they murmur: "we won, we won, You-Know-Who is gone")

The relief will soon change to sorrow.

  
.o3

The field is dark, and lightening. Rays of light break over the horizon, a contrast (almost ironic) to the dark of the battle earlier that night, earlier the previous day. The living who remain on the field are either grievously injured or tending to those who are.

No-one notices a figure rise from under a copse of trees on the edge of the field; nor do they notice the form that separates from one of the trees to join the first figure, the form that supports the first figure as it limps away (or is the form dragging the figure away?).

Few notice the crack of Disapparation.

###

 **A surge.**

  
.o1

The girl sits up. She's _somewhere_ : that much is a given. Where, however, is another story altogether.

It's dank. She can smell mildew and something rancid - she isn't sure _what_ , exactly - and whatever she's sitting on is frightfully cold. It's also dark, but the single candle in the same - wherever - illuminates enough to tell her she's in some sort of bedroom. Or something.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispers, and her wand flares with light.

  
.o2

She's sitting on a dilapidated old armchair (if it could be called that - one of the arms is missing), covered in what must have been leather, back before the damp and the critters that _must_ be around got to it. There's a broken rocking horse in the corner, and a bed with a ratty coverlet only partially covering its inhabitant. The walls are of stone. The mortar is crumbling and moss is growing in more than one corner, and she wouldn't be surprised if the dark spot on the wall to her left was a leak - or a bloodstain.

"So this is where I ended up," she murmurs. "S'pose that's what happen when you Apparate without a proper destination."

The being on the bed moans, and she whirls.

  
.o3

The girl is bending over the woman lying on the bed, peering anxiously at her face. "Bella," she says, concern clear in her eyes. "Bella, did the Blibbering Humdingers get you?"

The woman chuckles, then winces. "Ow, no, I rather think it was a curse."

The girl nods. "Did the Blibbering Humdingers get you after the curse?"

"I doubt it," the woman - Bella - says, and she attempts to sit up. It doesn't work. "Luna, be a dear and help me up?"

###

 **A trickle.**

  
.o1

They're in the Shrieking Shack; Luna knows this much. She recognises it from an Order operation half a lifetime ago, recognises it once she leaves the cellar that neither she nor Bella knew was there before their arrival.

At first, Bella can't get out of bed, and at first, Luna doesn't leave her side.

It's not until Luna fights off two Crumple-Horned Snorkacks that Bella tells her to go out a bit, let her friends know that she's still alive.

"But, Luna," Bella cautions. "Don't let them know where you are - or who you're with."

Luna nods.

  
.o2

Luna's friends aren't numerous. They never were, to be frank, but now the numbers have shrunk even farther. Harry is gone, of course - he was gone before the battle truly ended. But Ginny is gone, too, as is Neville. Very few of her housemates are still around, and almost all of the DA is gone.

She visits Ron in the Burrow. He's half-lost his mind, half-lost his family. He keeps muttering things about Lestrange, about MacNair, about Malfoy.

Luna pretends not to hear when he mentions Lestrange, even though she knows that he's talking about Rodolphus and not Bella.

She leaves him with a Bilieknob, "for sweet dreams, of course," and warns him against feeding it salmon.

On her way out, she stops in to see Mr. Weasley. He's quite sad (Knorffles are hanging over his head, no doubt) and doesn't notice her there much - this could be because of his sorrow, but is probably more due to the bottle in his hand.

Even the garden gnomes seem under the weather.

  
.o3

Hermione is in St. Mungo's, and the Healers don't know what to do with her. Luna suggests letting the Threstals from the hall into Hermione's ward, but of course the Healer's don't listen.

Luna leaves her radish earrings with Hermione and doesn't notice when the other girl stops breathing.

###

 **A charge.**

  
.o1

Bella's better now. Luna has brought her potions ingredients from across the countryside, and Bella has brewed them into some concoction that heals her wounds but leaves her with a great rasping cough.

In the time they don't spend scrounging through what used to be Hogsmeade for food and sundries, they sit in the (somewhat masticated) parlour of the Shrieking Shack. Bella curses the ants while Luna counts the Nargles in the woodwork.

Sometimes, the Nargles try to jump on Bella, but Luna always protects her.

  
.o2

Once, when Luna comes back from another sojourn into the outer world, a sojourn to reassure her friends (there's only Seamus left, now; the rest have died or gone entirely mad) that she's still alive and doing as well as can be expected, she finds Bella chained to a chair.

She moves the gag, and Bella tells her that someone was there.

Bella doesn't say who, but Luna senses that whoever it was, was touched by an aurochs. She doesn't despair, however.

Bella tells her not to worry.

  
.o3

When Luna can't figure out how to _undo_ the chains and knots and other bindings, she gets another notion altogether.

Bella shivers noticeably when Luna finally reaches her clit with her tongue. (Luna's spent too, too long on Bella's breasts and neck and that one spot right next to the handcuff on her left wrist.

Luna likes nibbling handcuffs)

It doesn't take her long to come, not after Luna licks and breathes, licks and breathes. The come tastes of Bella and of blood, and Luna can't get enough.

Bella doesn't usually like Luna to do this when she's bleeding, but this time, Luna refuses to take no for an answer.

She just takes Bella, and when she's done, she goes off to search for another aurochs, one to help set Bella free.

###

 **A shift.**

  
.o1

Within five months of the end of the war, almost everyone is gone. Ron goes out with a bang. Literally. Too much muttering addles his brain (no doubt mutant nifflers were involved), and a slew of garden gnomes teamed up and killed him once he jeporadised the honour of one of their lot.

Bill tries to hush up the details before one of his half-transformations goes wrong.

There's almost no more staff at St. Mungo's to help. Those that haven't escaped the country have gone mad or died, themselves.

  
.o2

Seamus is still sane, however. Luna visits him (he won't last long; the Blibbering Humdingers are circling 'round his flat) in late February. She brings chocolate found in the remnants of Honeyduke's cellar and he provides a liberal amount of Muggle alcohol.

They get into an argument about the future of their world. Luna expects to open a zoo for all the dangerous animals that so many people brush off as nonexistent. Seamus tells her that this is ridiculous. "How can you expect to have something like that for our world when our world is so fast disappearing?" he asks her. "I'm getting the fuck out of here. Going to visit my cousin in America. You'd do well to come along. 'Stoo dangerous here."

Luna declines.

  
.o3

Bella laughs when Luna tells her what Seamus said. "Luna," she says. "The world isn't dying, it's just... going through a metamorphosis. For the better; I promise."

Luna is reassured. She hugs Bella tight, kisses her, protects her.

The nargles move back a little bit.

###

 **A twist**

  
.o1  
" _Incendio_ ", they say. _Incendio_ , and there's another building gone.

Luna watches the burning from the roof on the Shrieking Shack. No-one sees her there, no one comes near the place.

Bella probably has it spelled against intruders. Or maybe the Flitterbys; they could probably hide it, too.

Luna can hear the edges of their words on the wind. She can hear the voices saying that there might still be danger in these ruins, that it's best to get rid of all of them.

That it's best to avoid the place altogether, once the ruins are gone.

  
.o2

Luna's heard that the world is coming to an end, but she doesn't believe it.

Seamus owls her from America: _the States are lovely, but everyone here goes about everything the wrong way. Hope you're doing well,_

She's doing as well as can be expected.

She and Bella are still in the Shrieking Shack, and they don't plan on leaving. No-one's come to demolish it yet (though everywhere else Luna's been in the last month has been destroyed)

The war ended five months and three days ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday; more often, it feels like a hundred years ago.

  
.o3

Luna is still sane.

Bella is still sane.

The rest of the world seems to have gone mad.

Wizarding Britain is all but gone: all the wizards and witches and magical creatures have either died, gone mad, or fled to escape... whatever it is that's afflicting the world.

Muggle Britain isn't much better, but, then again, it never was.

###

 **A flow**

  
.o1

Bella arches her back as Luna pushes her hand into her, makes a fist. She gasps, moans, as Luna's other hand, as Luna's tongue move all over her body.

At some point, Luna takes her wand from her hair and spells Bella's hands bound, spells Bella gagged and tied and magicks a feather to run all over Bella's body, flitting over her more sensitive areas, dancing between their bodies and making Bella squirm.

After Bella comes, Luna washes her hands, washes them with sand and soap.

  
.o2

Luna remembers reading something, once. Ginny'd given her a muggle book, said it was pretty good. Luna had read it (it wasn't _that_ impressive) and not remembered much of it.

But now, now she remembers one of the lines. One of the characters in it said something like "here at the end of all things."

Luna finds it strangely fitting, the saying. Even the Blibbering Humdingers don't come 'round anymore.

All there is, is her, her and Bella, and sometimes it isn't enough.

Seamus has stopped owling her, and, so far as she knows, the rest of the world has up and died.

"Lovely victory we had," she murmurs, then turns around when Bella calls.

  
.o3

Bellatrix has had few regrets in her life, and this is no exception. She doesn't regret the side she chose in the war (yes, they lost, but the other side didn't fare much better. After all, who's left?), she doesn't regret the things she did for her Lord.

She doesn't regret the life she's led after. She's still alive, still reasonably sane, which is more than can be said for anyone else still about. Luna's been wonderful, considering: healing her, gathering information, fucking her...

Only, after Luna follows the hundreds who slipped away before her, Bella sometimes wonders how things would have turned out if she hadn't put Luna under the _Imperius_.

  
  


  


♥

  



End file.
